


you in my shirt

by miyaosamu (kunimi)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fantasizing, Friends With Benefits, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Sharing Clothes, Tenderness, like. technically, osamu just has a lot of fantasies and also memories, this is honestly softer than it is horny but osamu is very much Both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28089708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimi/pseuds/miyaosamu
Summary: ("Your waist is sotiny,"Kiyoomi had marvelled, wrapping his fingers around it, encircling his waist completely. Osamu had almost lost his fuckingmind,feeling Kiyoomi's hands tight around him, pressing in on him, the pads of his fingers searing into his skin."But your shoulders are—it's unreasonable," Kiyoomi had informed him, but his hands had run all up and down his back, over his shoulders, almost like he was trying to map them into his muscle memory, and his eyes had been darker than Osamu had ever seen them and it was just—sofucking hot. It wasn't fair.And then Kiyoomi had leaned forward to steal a page out of Osamu's book and sink his teeth into Osamu's shoulder, and all of Osamu's thoughts got lost to the gasp that Kiyoomi's bite drew out of him.)kiyoomi has to borrow osamu's shirt, and osamu is Really Into It. or: miya osamu is horny, and maybe in love. fuck.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65
Collections: 🐶🍙 omigiri fanfic collection





	you in my shirt

**Author's Note:**

> again, this is a twitter drabble that got a little long lmao
> 
> this one is from my nsfw twt! the original thread can be found [here!](https://twitter.com/KUNlKAGE/status/1338807655855312897?s=20) and it's iris' fault. she drew [sakusa wearing osamu's shirt for omigiri december](https://twitter.com/kuehjpg/status/1338569433346805760?s=20) and i immediately lost my mind
> 
> anyway osamu is horny AND having a feelings epiphany. loser. this is actually more soft than it is horny but osamu is Very Much Both
> 
> (iris made art for this as well!! not only did her art inspire it but then she made art _for_ it... oh my god i am Mess. it can be found [here!](https://twitter.com/kuehjpg/status/1339616652854345729?s=20) & i linked it in the endnote as well!

"Hey, can I borrow a shirt?" Kiyoomi asks. Osamu nods without even pausing to think, busy focusing on the gyoza he's frying. Kiyoomi probably hadn't expected to stay the night, he thinks, watching the water evaporate.

When Kiyoomi appears behind him, tucking his chin over Osamu's shoulder, Osamu relaxes into his warmth. His steady presence, the firm, muscled lines of his body against Osamu's back. His arms loosely linking around Osamu's torso.

When Osamu tilts his head to look at Kiyoomi properly, his eyes catch on Kiyoomi's collarbones and his mind completely stalls. The pan isn't the only thing that's suddenly dry—his mouth is too, his tongue automatically flicking out to wet his lips.

Fuck. He didn't think lending Kiyoomi a shirt would do _this_ to him. But he hadn't thought about the difference in their frames, hadn't considered the fact that his shirt would hang a little loose on Kiyoomi, who isn't small by any means, but has a leaner frame than Osamu.

("Your waist is so _tiny,"_ Kiyoomi had marvelled, wrapping his fingers around it, encircling his waist completely. Osamu had almost lost his fucking _mind,_ feeling Kiyoomi's hands tight around him, pressing in on him, the pads of his fingers searing into his skin.

"But your shoulders are—it's unreasonable," Kiyoomi had informed him, but his hands had run all up and down his back, over his shoulders, almost like he was trying to map them into his muscle memory, and his eyes had been darker than Osamu had ever seen them and it was just— _so_ fucking hot. It wasn't fair.

And then Kiyoomi had leaned forward to steal a page out of Osamu's book and sink his teeth into Osamu's shoulder, and all of Osamu's thoughts got lost to the gasp that Kiyoomi's bite drew out of him.)

So like. He knows Kiyoomi's shoulders aren't as wide as his—knows that he can bracket Kiyoomi against the wall, that his arms are strong enough to hold him up and pin him there.

But somehow he hadn't done the math to figure out that meant his shirt would hang off Kiyoomi, exposing his collarbones, exposing a swathe of smooth skin that Osamu would want to touch, kiss, suck. Count the moles on it with his tongue and teeth.

"Osamu, I think the gyoza are going to burn," Kiyoomi says, peering at the pan as if he hasn't just awoken like forty fantasies that Osamu didn't even know he had, what the fuck.

"Hm?" he says, still dazed, then—"Oh, fuck."

He manages to salvage them—a few are crispier than ideal, which is just fucking embarrassing from a chef, but Kiyoomi still looks like he enjoys them. Which... is part of the problem, actually.

Kiyoomi's content expression isn't very expressive, not the way his dismay is. Osamu loves every single one of his expressions, enjoys teasing out his exasperation, feels warmer than he knows what to do with when he's graced with one of those increasingly fond looks, constantly replays the way Kiyoomi's eyes darken when Osamu manages to draw out his desire.

Because a content Kiyoomi rolls his neck ever so slightly, which makes Osamu's shirt shift across his collarbones, drawing Osamu's attention every time. A content Kiyoomi makes the tiniest noises, fixes thoughtful eyes on Osamu, has the ghost of a smile in the set of his mouth.

A content Kiyoomi is a thousand tiny wants prickling into Osamu's skin.

It's not fair. They're just meant to be eating. It's one of their rituals after nights like this. Kiyoomi doesn't always stay. But he did this time. Has been more and more recently.

They met early, mostly out of respect for Kiyoomi's sleep schedule, so he could go home after if he wanted to. But instead, he'd stuck around. Carded his hand through Osamu's hair in a way that seemed absent-minded, instinctual, even though everything Sakusa Kiyoomi does is laced with intent. At least, it has been for as long as Osamu has known him.

(Osamu wonders if part of it is Kiyoomi wanting him to sleep more. At some point along the line, Kiyoomi had started expressing concern for Osamu's sleep.

At first it was stuff like _how can you run a business on four hours sleep_ and _i'm worried about your health and safety standards_ but now. Well. One time, Kiyoomi had asked him if he slept better with someone beside him. Osamu hadn't known how to answer, shrugging instead. "I like the warmth," he'd said, and Kiyoomi had hummed. Pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Stayed.

The other night, Osamu had been texting him about his shitty day at work—and when that became part of their routine, Osamu doesn't know. Doesn't know how texting Kiyoomi became the first thing he does every day, the last thing he does before sleep. Doesn't know if he can bear to find out—and had off-handedly mentioned he was going to crash on the couch. Kiyoomi had threatened to come pick him and put him in bed. Osamu hadn't thought he would, but he should have remembered that Sakusa Kiyoomi always says his truths.

Kiyoomi had opened the door with the spare key from beneath the mat, saying it was a terrible place to put a spare key, and had literally lifted Osamu off the couch, which would have been incredibly fucking hot if Osamu wasn't too tired to appreciate it. When Osamu had moaned about not wanting to sleep in his bed while he was dirty, Kiyoomi had pushed him into the bathroom. Osamu had been about to protest, to say that he couldn't keep himself standing in the shower, but then Kiyoomi's hands were on his clothes, removing them with a gentleness completely counter to how forthright his demeanour had been about making Osamu get through his nightly routine. Osamu had been rendered speechless.

And then Kiyoomi had stripped too, pushing Osamu into the shower, and following him.

"I'm tired," Osamu had said, almost guilty, and Kiyoomi had paused, cocking his head.

"I know," he'd said, something almost tender to his words. "I'm not here for that. I just didn't want my clothes to get wet."

He'd helped scrub Osamu down, taking more care with him than Osamu ever took with himself. Kiyoomi was methodical, but not clinical. Osamu had never imagined his first shower with Kiyoomi to end with nothing but clean bodies and a gentle kiss pressed to his shoulder blades. But it did.

Kiyoomi had led him out, found him his towel, helped him with pyjamas. Had been ready to leave, wearing an old Inarizaki hoodie of Osamu's and his longest sweatpants, when Osamu had whined. Tugged on his hands. Mumbled "stay".

Kiyoomi had sighed. Had said he had to leave at six am for morning training.

But he had stayed.

Just to help Osamu sleep. Osamu didn't know what to do with that the next day. He still doesn't now.)

And now he's sitting across a table from Kiyoomi, watching him enjoy his gyoza, and he just. _Fuck._ He wants Kiyoomi to look content because Osamu is riding him to the point of satisfaction he's always chasing. He wants Kiyoomi to lie down in his shirt, let Osamu map the exposed skin of his collarbone with his tongue, teeth, lips.

He wants Kiyoomi to make that expression as Osamu brushes his hand when they're on a late night run to the conbini because Osamu wants to make Kiyoomi something specific on a whim, and is missing rice flour for some reason. He wants Kiyoomi to make that expression, and every other. Wants Kiyoomi's eyes to be blown wide, lips falling open as he groans when Osamu drags his teeth over his dick, hollowing his cheeks. Wants Kiyoomi's mouth to quirk half up in a smirk when he's got one of Osamu's legs pinned up by his head, nipping at the skin while languidly thrusting into Osamu, acting nonchalant while Osamu demands more. Wants Kiyoomi to wrap his arms around him when they sink into bed. Wants to see the way Kiyoomi's eyelids flutter when Osamu runs his fingers through Kiyoomi's hair, wants to see the way Kiyoomi leans into his touch.

Wants everything, maybe. Fuck.

All those things he didn't know how to think about, and now look at him.

"That was very good. Thank you," Kiyoomi says, and licks his fingers. What the _fuck._

Osamu knows it's a mark of his comfort, doing that here, but Osamu just thinks about those fingers disappearing behind Kiyoomi's tongue, and thinks about what else could share their fate.

"I really like you," he says, instead of anything normal, like _thank you_ or _you're welcome_ or _well, i am a chef._

Kiyoomi pauses. Meets his eyes, dark and careful. Cocks his head.

"In what way?" he asks.

Osamu feels a little nervous, like his breath is caught in his throat. He'd love it if it was because he was swallowing Kiyoomi's cock right now, but no. Just bad decisions.

"Just – you," he says, eloquent as ever. "This. What we're doing."

"Fucking?" Kiyoomi asks, hesitant.

Osamu gives him a wry smile. "Eating," he says. "Sleeping. All of it." Pauses, clears his throat. "You in my shirt."

Kiyoomi's eyes widen, then darken.

"All of it," he echoes. Licks his lips. Osamu swallows at the sight. "I do too," Kiyoomi says after a few more moments.

Osamu blinks. "Wait, really?"

Kiyoomi gives him an incredulous look. "I think we're well past just a pragmatic arrangement," he says dryly, and Osamu fucking _blushes._ Embarrassing. God. "I want to kiss you," Kiyoomi says abruptly.

"We can do that," Osamu says. He feels like his face is splitting in half with its grin. "We can do anything."

Kiyoomi's eyes take on a mischievous glint. "As long as I'm in your shirt?" he teases.

"Shut up," Osamu says, but he's grinning too hard to pretend to be offended. "I have a lot of thoughts about you in that shirt."

Kiyoomi smirks. "Oh, yeah? Why don't you show me then?" he challenges.

(Osamu does.)

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter, either on [main](https://twitter.com/kurokenns) or on my [nsfw](https://twitter.com/KUNlKAGE), where this thread is from!
> 
> again, the original thread can be found [here!](https://twitter.com/KUNlKAGE/status/1338807655855312897?s=20) and [here is iris' wholesome art of sakusa wearing osamu's shirt for omigiri december that sparked this chaos dfhjajhjs](https://twitter.com/kuehjpg/status/1338569433346805760?s=20)
> 
> it's a little bit cleaned up from the twt post, mostly putting in capitals and reconnecting some paragraphs ahaha
> 
> [IRIS MADE ART FOR THIS FIC AS WELL OF THE OPENING SCENE HELP ME it is so beautiful please click anywhere on this sentence to check it out bc i'm obsessed](https://twitter.com/kuehjpg/status/1339616652854345729?s=20)


End file.
